


Letting Go

by The_Ghost_King



Series: Haikyuu!! Rarepairweek 2021 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brazil, Character Study, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Guilt, HQ Rarepair Week, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Hints of Oihina, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Music, Inspired by a ONE OK ROCK Song, Letting Go - ONE OK ROCK, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Relationship, Regret, Touch-Starved, Travel, for a little bit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28535529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ghost_King/pseuds/The_Ghost_King
Summary: Moving to the other side of the world means letting go. Shouyou learns this the hard way.Lucky for him he has a chance encounter, even luckier he gets a boyfriend out of it.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kozume Kenma, Hinata Shouyou & Oikawa Tooru, Hinata Shouyou/Kozume Kenma
Series: Haikyuu!! Rarepairweek 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090403
Kudos: 42





	Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> For day three of Haikyuu!! rarepair week 2021 with the prompt: Travel
> 
> I took some liberties and made this incredibly sad for no reason in particular.
> 
> Sorry and I hope you'll like it anyway ^_^

Shouyou's made all of these decisions by himself, with some useful advice from teachers and coaches along the way.

He's made all of these decisions by himself, so why does he still feel so guilty? 

Guilty as he's driven to the airport. Seated snuggly in his mother's cramped car, Natsu at his side. The others coming to see him off by train because there isn't enough space for them to be brought with.

Guilty when Kageyama, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Yachi, Kenma, his mother and Natsu wave him off as he makes his way towards check-in, his only luggage being a backpack and the trolley rolling along behind him. Heavy with aspirations for his future yet sparse with his actual possessions. The warmth of the hugs they'd given him still clinging to his body.

Guilty as the plane takes off. Unable to stop looking out the window as first the airport, then Sendai, then Miyagi, then Japan become small as an ant underneath him. Unable to stop staring even when they breach the clouds and he can no longer see the island nation he calls home.

He's guilty, most of all, when he tears his eyes away from the tiny oval aeroplane window and pulls the covering down, a sheet between him and the world he's leaving behind.

He sits, rigged and then closes his eyes hoping sleep might come soon so that the dark harrowing guilt—bubbling in his stomach and absorbed by his blood, spreading throughout his body, making it heavy and icy cold—might leave him alone.

He sleeps until the plane lands, and in his first groggy moments of wakefulness, everything is fine. He forgets where he is, what he's there for, what he's left behind.

Then he blinks, wakes up properly, and the dark heavy guilt returns, like a stone in the pit of his stomach.

Rio de Janeiro is a sweltering inferno, but Shouyou?

Shouyou is stuck in the middle of a blizzard, no end in sight.

* * *

After guilt comes loneliness. 

Slowly, steadily. Creeping up on him and twisting itself around him like a snake ready to constrict its prey and feast on it. 

The loneliness corners him so slowly, so carefully and cunningly that it doesn’t register with him. That he can write off the cold churning in his gut as remnants of guilt for leaving his friends behind, for leaving Kenma behind who could’ve been  _ more _ someday. 

That he can write off the random goosebumps and unease as his body needing to adjust to the change in atmosphere. 

That he can write off the feeling like he’s missing something, missing  _ out _ on something as just simple imagination, spurred by his busy schedule and shifting priorities.

He gets used to all of these, lets himself be restricted by them and then finds himself surprised to wake up in the middle of the night with loneliness’s frosty claws stuck in his heart.

Tugging at his heartstrings like it’s plucking a guitar, making him ache alone in his bed.

He grabs his phone, just to check the time but drops it, as if the square device burned him when he opened it.

He forgot about his lock screen, about the picture of Yamaguchi, Kageyama, Tsukishima, Yachi and him, taken right before graduation in their Karasuno uniforms. Their arms slung around each other, bodies pressed close together, all of them wearing their numbers proudly, glad for the past three years. 

Shouyou’s eyes burn and the picture blurs, the faces of his friends becoming unclear. 

They’re not all together in the same place anymore but they’re in the same country. No time zones separating them, all of them just a phone call away in theory even if they’re busy with university and volleyball and living life without him.

He’s  _ lonely _ . He realises on this night. Lonely in a foreign country where he doesn’t speak the language, lonely in a foreign bed, in a foreign apartment with a roommate who doesn’t want to talk to him. Lonely without his friends who he loves and misses. Who’ve been with him for the past three years almost every day, who’ve stood by his side through his hardships and who he learned from and continues to learn from.

He cradles the phone against his chest and curls into himself.

Sobbing quietly and shivering till he’s so exhausted he falls asleep.

* * *

The loneliness doesn’t get better. All it does is spiral further.

It’s fine throughout the day, nothing but a short twinge here or there when he sees people on the beach excitedly greeting each other, or couples holding hands or families on day trips enjoying the luxuries of Rio de Janeiro’s beaches. 

The twinge doesn’t become all-encompassing until evening starts. After he tries to connect with Pedro and goes ignored again, forcing himself to make dinner that he eats alone. Unable to videocall Kenma or anyone else because of the time difference and their coursework.

The twinge creeps up on him, slower this time, as he eats. It starts at his toes, at his fingertips, his earlobes. The inescapable chill, the cold.

It snakes up his limbs as he eats, settles in his stomach and makes him full when only half his plate is finished. He forces himself to finish the food even though his appetite has abandoned him and everything he eats tastes like drab, unseasoned mush. It tastes like nothing, it’s lost any flavour or texture it’s supposed to have, even though he clearly remembers preparing it like he did at home. 

Shouyou finishes his plate because he has to but he’d much rather throw it all up. The chill so uncomfortable and sickening it’s ruined the prospect of a good meal.

The feeling doesn’t become truly overwhelming until he walks into his room.

Till he closes his door behind him and then doesn’t turn on the light, instead sliding down to the floor. Knees pressed to his chest, face between his knees as he shivers and shakes.

He’s frustrated with himself. He made the choice to leave for Brazil himself. He wanted to do beach volleyball, he knew what he signed up for and now it’s almost like he wants to go back.

Like he wants to give up and go back home and fall into his friends’ arms and let them shelter him.

He bites down on the skin of his hand to muffle his sobbing and hopes that the pain might take his mind off the negative emotions washing over him. 

It doesn’t, it just feeds the punitive part of his mind that wants him to suffer for daring to leave his home behind. That wants him to suffer for leaving his friends, for leaving  _ Kenma _ who he’s had a crush on ever since they first met. It wants him to suffer, and with no alternative popping into his head he supposes he will. He deserves it.

He’d excepted the guilt when it first came, expected the loneliness even, expected all these various aspects of homesickness, including his vengeful thoughts. He never would’ve anticipated the regret though.

He doesn’t expect to question himself and to wonder, with increasing frequency as the days pass by if perhaps he made the wrong choice and should’ve stayed home.

Stayed with his friends, stayed with Kenma, stayed with everyone who he couldn’t bear to let go off, instead of dashing halfway around the world in a desperate plea to improve.

He knows, rationally that he’s made the right choice. He knows he would’ve been stuck in Japan, never able to catch up with the monsters in his generation but the regret doesn’t care about that.

It doesn’t care about rationality or Shouyou’s wants, it cares about stopping him in his tracks.

It cares about mixing with the lingering strands of guilt and his overwhelming loneliness to form a heavy stone in his stomach, dragging him down throughout all of his activities as he tries to ignore it.

No such luck. It becomes more and more oppressive every day. It somehow worsens even as he throws himself into practice and his newly established routine because the time spent away from his phone means entire conversations missed in the Karasuno group chat when he checks again. It means he misses Kenma’s streams and his phone calls. Means he misses his friends, and their lives, taking place on the other side of the world  _ without him _ .

He  _ hates _ it, but he’s got a goal to accomplish.

Volleyball comes first, that’s why he made this decision in the first place. He’ll just deal with the regret as it hits him, like waves trying to drag him under. 

* * *

It gets a little better when Kenma offers to sponsor him half a year in. They make time for each, they start talking more, working around the twelve-hour time difference so they can stay active in the other’s life.

He’s found his place in Rio de Janeiro too. He’s slowly getting the hang of beach volleyball and he even had a conversation with Pedro the other day, stunted and slow but it’s a start. Maybe they’ll even learn that they have something in common, if they keep making small talk.

The loneliness abates little by little and with it, the guilt and regret finally start leaving him alone.

He’s Hinata Shouyou, a former member of Karasuno High School’s volleyball club. He’s been to Nationals multiple times, he’s  _ strong _ .

He left for Rio de Janeiro to get even stronger and he will. 

His friends back home are rooting for him. He’s got people left behind he has to beat. He’ll rebuild himself on the sand and come out on top, as he always does, eventually.

That the worst of his emotions surrounding his move to Rio de Janeiro finally start leaving him alone doesn’t mean he doesn’t encounter any other problems.

He realises his new issue when he reunites with Oikawa-san. 

He’s glad to see a familiar face on the streets of Rio de Janeiro, he’s even happier to be learning from a player who he’s always admired. Who he aspires to be like, and who is  _ strong _ through diligent practice and effort.

Who’s moved to the other side of the world to get stronger, just like him.

Oikawa-san is also a very tactile person and Shouyou—who’s become familiar with short brushes of hands against his back or high fives, but nothing more—is perplexed by his reaction the first time Oikawa-san ruffles his hair.

They’ve finished playing a game of beach volleyball and even though they only won by the skin of their teeth, they’re incredibly excited. So excited that Shouyou turns to Oikawa-san expecting...what? A hug, a high five, praise? Something touchy and overly familiar that none of the Brazilian players ever do but he’d gotten so accustomed to in high school?

Oikawa-san catches on to him though and reaches out his hand, placing the large palm, with its long setter fingers, right atop Shouyou’s head. Ruffling his hair slowly, mussing it up, accidentally scratching his scalp with his perfectly manicured fingers.

Shouyou  _ melts _ .

He closes his eyes and leans further into the contact, silently begging Oikawa-san to keep going, and although the hand falters shortly in its rhythm the motion stays. Only stopping when Oikawa-san slides his hand from Shouyou’s head to cup his cheek, using his other hand to boop his nose.

“Shouyou-kun,” Oikawa-san says, fond and a little forlorn even as Shouyou becomes increasingly embarrassed now that he’s realized what he’s done, “you should really get more hugs.”

“What?”

Oikawa-san shakes his head and drags him towards the street by his wrist, the point of contact searing hot, sending shivers of pleasure down Shouyou’s spine.

They get something to eat and Oikawa-san doesn’t answer his question but right before he leaves to go back to his hotel he pulls Shouyou into his chest. Wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. Shouyou’s ear rests over his heart and he relaxes as he listens to the sound of Oikawa-san’s steady heartbeat.

His entire body is buzzing. He’s on fire, unable to focus on anything but every point of contact between him and Oikawa-san.

He’s never felt like this before and when Oikawa-san lets go he almost whines at the loss of contact.

Oikawa-san ruffles his hair yet again as he leaves, waving at him.

“Get yourself more hugs Shouyou-kun!” he yells, “And see you tomorrow.”

Shouyou’s still in a daze, high on the endorphins from prolonged human contact he hadn’t known he’d been missing until Oikawa-san gave it to him.

He wants more, craves it already. Skin becoming painfully cold in the absence of physical touch.

“I will,” he mumbles, “I will.”

* * *

Touch becomes normal in that one week Oikawa-san spends with him. 

The hair ruffle after every scored point, a hand lingering on his back when he does a particularly good play, the  _ hugs _ Oikawa-san gives him, minutes long, whenever they see each other again and right before they say goodbye.

Shouyou’s high on the contact, buzzing with it, lost to the rest of the world whenever Oikawa-san touches him. He craves touch even more when Oikawa-san isn’t around.

Wishing he could just slump against Pedro who’s resting on the couch or that one of his friends—preferably Kenma—was there to cuddle with until he’s hazy and half asleep.

This touch-starved-ness brings back his loneliness and he’s stuck missing his friends, wishing to touch them and hold them and be close to them, again.

He and Oikawa-san win their last beach volleyball game against the Buy-Me-Beer Bros, and although the hug Oikawa-san gives him afterwards lasts for a whole five minutes, and they’re hanging off each other for the rest of the evening and throughout dinner, even as they walk along the beach afterwards, it’s bittersweet.

These moments, these touches, are almost surreal. Shouyou wants them to never end.

But they have to. This is Oikawa-san’s last night in Rio.

They part ways after a long hug and Shouyou’s left watching him go. Cold seeping into his body the further Oikawa-san’s away from him.

He wonders if he can go back to the way things were before now that he’s acutely aware of what he’s been missing these past months.

He’s determined not to let this take him down and clenches his fists as he makes his way back home.

He’ll be fine, he’s strong.

* * *

It’s a month later, on a video call to Kenma, that he cracks.

He’s gone back to only having brief, inconsequential contact with those around him. Shivering whenever their quick touches fade away before he can ever register them. He tosses and turns at night, hugging his pillow to simulate the pressure of Oikawa-san’s arms around him, nothing works.

Life goes back to how it was before, but he’s frustrated with himself and his inability to continue on through the pain as he had when he first landed. He’s angry with Oikawa-san for showing him what he’s missing out on because now his body wants touch and his mind is aware of it.

It’s even worse on his twentieth birthday, mere days after Oikawa leaves, where he video calls his family and friends and has to watch them hanging off each other in the same room whilst he sits on his bed alone.

_ You chose this _ , he reminds himself after they hang up the call,  _ you chose this _ .

A few weeks later on his regularly scheduled video call with Kenma—Every Saturday at 8 PM his time—he’s thinking about it again. 

As he waits for Kenma to pick up the phone he remembers the effort it took them to figure out the right day and time, so neither of them would be inhibited by their hour-long phone calls. 

It’d been frustrating but it worked itself out. Shouyou calls Kenma right after he’s finished having dinner and he gets the privilege of seeing Kenma still swaddled up in his bed. Bedhead hidden by the covers, face smushed into his pillow and a little groggy for the first fifteen minutes of their talk because it’s 8 AM in Japan and Kenma isn’t much of a morning person—especially when he’s stayed up till 4 AM playing video games, as he always does.

Shouyou can’t be sure why exactly the words leave his mouth, maybe he’s just tired and his filter fails him. Maybe the touch deprivation is affecting him more than he thought. Maybe it’s because Kenma looks so  _ warm _ and  _ comfortable _ and perfect to snuggle with cocooned in his blankets and he wishes he could reach through the screen and join him, whatever it is, he can’t stop himself.

One moment he’s listening to Kenma’s account of his week and the next he’s whispering, “I miss you,” and watches as the Kenma on his screen freezes up. Stopping halfway through his sentence and staring at Shouyou with wide eyes, like he can’t imagine this is really happening.

Shouyou’s heart is beating between his ears, his pulse racing, his hands sweaty, his body preparing to cut the call and never communicate with anyone ever again.

The three words aren’t even that strange but they’re a bombshell coming from Shouyou, who never sounds forlorn, or upset or says that he misses people outright. He’s always talking about the next time they’ll meet, determined and cocksure as he discusses when they’ll see each other again and the things they might do.

Shouyou’s forgets how to breathe for those few moments, just staring at Kenma’s face as he processes his words and smiles. Soft, quiet, a little sleepy still.

His voice is saccharine and a little sad when he whispers, “I miss you too,” accompanied with a slight rustle from his blankets.

Shouyou smiles back, ecstatic, but without his permission, his vision blurs and within moments he feels the telltale wetness of tears running down his cheeks.

Kenma sits frozen on the other side of the screen again as Shouyou bends over and  _ sobs _ , all the negative emotions he’s bottled up over the past six months bursting out all at once.

“I miss you so  _ so _ much,” he says in between sobs, trying to get his voice to stop shaking but to no avail.

“It’s been so, so  _ lonely _ all the time,” he continues, “and I don’t  _ know _ anybody and you’re all doing other stuff and I just miss being able to hang out and be  _ home _ ,” he breathes in deep. Tries to keep the sobs under control but his shoulders continue to shake, his body continues to betray him with the fat tears rolling down his face.

“Kenma, I miss  _ home _ ,” he says voice breaking on the last word and he can’t look at the screen, can’t look at Kenma whose face must be distorted in disgust at his  _ weakness, _ at his inability to keep himself together. 

He  _ chose _ to come to Brazil. He made all of these decisions by himself, fully aware of the consequences and he went anyway.

Who is he now to complain?

He’s about to press the hang-up button, to just end the call and his suffering when Kenma speaks up, sounding strangely shaken when Shouyou’s used to his somewhat emotionless inflexion.

“Shouyou,” he starts, unsure and uncomfortable, voice quivering. Shouyou keeps his head down.

“Shouyou,” Kenma says again, tone steadier, more confident, forcing him to look up.

When he locks eyes with Kenma and sees the other boy’s eyes shining with unshed tears, the weak dam holding back some of his emotions  _ shatters _ and he wells up again.

“Shouyou,” Kenma repeats again, for a third time, firmly so Shouyou keeps his attention on him, keeps his eyes on him and is unable to look away.

When Kenma’s sure he has Shouyou’s full attention he speaks, carefully. Making sure he annunciates clearly and can’t be misunderstood or misconstrued.

“I miss you too,” he says, flush high on his cheeks, “and I know it’s hard now but with a little bit more time it’ll just keep getting better. You’re strong and you’re interesting and you’re still a ravenous crow. I believe in you and hey, maybe I can come to visit in the future, so you can show me around,” by the time he’s finished speaking Kenma’s averted his gaze, no longer looking at the camera but instead somewhere off-screen with the flush on his cheeks only having gotten darker, it’s clear that he’s smiling though.

Shouyou’s entire face is hot and he’s smiling through the tears. His face probably looks disgusting but he doesn’t mind, giddy off of Kenma’s words and reassurances.

“I’d love to show you around,” he says and it’s a  _ thank you _ and an  _ I love you _ all at once. Kenma seems to catch on to the first meaning at least because he smiles and it makes butterflies erupt in Shouyou’s stomach.

He wipes his tears and leaves his room to get some tissues, telling Kenma he’ll be right back.

_ I can do this _ , he thinks as he grabs his phone again. Face clean and smile genuine and easy. 

He smiles wider when Kenma reappears, having gotten out from underneath his covers and stationed himself at his desk instead, hair pulled up in a bun.

_ I can do this _ , he thinks again and he asks Kenma what happened in his Tuesday lecture that had him chuckling before

* * *

It’s December when Kenma comes and visits him. The rainy season is starting up and he picks Kenma up from the airport late at night with a rain poncho and an umbrella in hand, wanting to make his friend’s experience as pleasant as possible.

He’s nervous, hands shaking, butterflies in his stomach fluttering about with abandon, his heart beating in his throat.

His emotions are dialled up even further when he receives a message from Kenma indicating that he’s making his way to the exit. 

He’s got a little cardboard sign in his left hand that he lifts up higher,  _ Kenma _ , written on it in his neatest Kanji, with a little cat emoji next to it for the finishing touch.

Pedro had helped him with it, happy to hear that one of his friends was coming to visit him.

Shouyou looks around, scanning the airport over and over again for an old Nekoma jacket that Kenma told him he’d be wearing.

Every time his eyes catch on something red he leans towards it, deflating when it’s not the red and white jacket he’s looking for.

When he does spot Kenma it’s almost like a movie scene.

He’s walking straight towards him, Nekoma jacket zipped all the way up, his hair in a low ponytail, his trolley rolling behind him.

Time slows down.

It’s been less than a year since he saw him in person but from the way his mouth goes dry and his heart beats out of his chest it’s like they haven’t seen each other in years.

It’s clear when Kenma spots him and his sign because a smile tugs at his lips. His posture showing that he’s a little embarrassed but not truly upset.

Shouyou wants to stay in place and wait for him, he really does, but it’s just been so  _ long _ . He can’t contain himself.

One moment he’s stood perfectly still, the next he’s got Kenma wrapped up in his arms. Resting his head on his shoulder and relaxing into the contact when Kenma carefully wraps his arms around him too.

“I missed you,” he whispers, right next to Kenma’s ear.

Kenma holds him even tighter, whispering, “I missed you too,” right back.

* * *

Later, right before Shouyou goes back to his apartment, ready to traverse the streets of Rio in early the AM all by himself and leave Kenma in his hotel room, they kiss.

It’s slow and chaste and  _ sweet _ .

Shouyou’s sure he’s imagining it at first but then they separate, still only a hair’s width apart and Kenma pulls him back in.

He leaves an hour later than planned, lips kiss swollen and head in the clouds.

* * *

Shouyou’s made all of the decisions that brought him to Rio de Janeiro by himself. He knew of the consequences of his actions even if he wasn’t fully prepared for them.

He made all these decisions himself, and even though he’s faced hardships too, at the end of the day he the only way he’ll go is up.

If he’s got volleyball and Kenma, what else is there to want?

**Author's Note:**

> [ _I hope you know that it wasn't easy_  
>  _Letting go of the life I knew_  
>  _I just had to get out, move to the city_  
>  _Didn't feel right taking you with me_  
>  _Hope you know that it wasn't easy letting go_](https://youtu.be/Lb3eBql5ABM)  
>  \-----  
> If you really liked this fic consider following me on my new Twitter [@The_Gh0st_King](https://twitter.com/The_Gh0st_King) where I'm always down to talk and ramble about fandom, fic ideas and like and retweet a fuckton of great fanart.


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